


Home

by TheKitteh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluffy schmoop, M/M, life throughout the seasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:35:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKitteh/pseuds/TheKitteh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s those days when he dares to feel honest to God happy; happy and safe and as whole as he hadn’t in the longest of whiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

He likes days like these, scarce as they are, when they can take their time, when there is nothing rushing them.

When there is nothing chasing after them, no threat hanging around their heads and for a moment, a fleeting one, they can finally breathe. 

When they can be just  _them_.

When his brother - his annoying ,stubborn,  _beautiful_  jerk of a brother - slows down, unwindes and all of the little creases around his eyes smooth out. His lips stretch a little less easy, a little less fake; in that kind of smile he almost never sees anymore.

It’s days like these when they barely talk to one another, allowing everything else to speak for them.

When the glide of fingers turns from frantic to slow, from bruising to cherishing. When lips whisper nonsense, praise and worship into heated skin. When they spend hours in bed, lost and content, or sharing quiet laughs in a tiny bathroom, never seperating for longer than a blink of an eye.

It’s  _those_  days when he dares to feel honest to God happy; happy and safe and as whole as he hadn’t in the longest of whiles. When his body is lax and sated, his heart next to his brother’s, sharing the same slow  _thump-thump-thump._

It’s the deep rumble of his brother’s laugh, it’s his own fingers tracing the outline of years-old tattoo. It’s legs tangled under paper thin sheets, lazy touches and slow thrusts, it’s all the kisses and bites and licks and nibbles.

It’s everything they need, falling asleep in the middle of God forgotten nowhere, with air damp and shared between kiss-swollen lips. 

It’s enough to keep the demons away, to keep the nightmares at bay.

It’s days like those, when he thinks that it was worth it, in the end. The pain and suffering - inflicted both by them  _and_  upon them - their crushed hearts and broken bones, and all of the lies, all of the betreyal and distrust. They overcame it all, came out victorious. Much older than they really are, bodies and souls scarred till the end of their time, but victorious non the less.

His brother still makes him want to smash his face into the nearest wall. Still flirts with whatever girl wears a skirt short enough, still hustles pool like he’s going for the world’s record and still mistakes cheap whiskey for water. And he himself still falls for all the little jibs, still has his brother’s back in whichever bar fight it is this week and still suffers from  _epic_  hangovers whenever he tries to keep up with his own drink.

And at each bar it ends the same, when they leave together; it’s some girl’s crushed face,  it’s some asshole treating a black eye or a knocked out tooth in the bathroom and it’s the two of them making way to the run-down motel at the edge of town. 

There always will be two queens waiting for them in their cheap room. Always. And no matter how tall he gets, how broad his brother’s shoulders are, they fit perfectly into one.

Because it’s when they press close - skin to skin, bone to bone - one’s lips to another’s neck, or shoulder, someone’s nose burried in the other’s hair, when they know this is it.

This is home.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr


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